


Each Love I Cut Loose

by RushingHeadlong



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Smut, Multi, Other: See Story Notes, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 8,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RushingHeadlong/pseuds/RushingHeadlong
Summary: A collection of shorter Reader-insert fics.First chapter serves as a table of contents with more complete summaries for each story.
Relationships: Brian May/You, John Deacon/You, Roger Taylor (Queen)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of Reader-insert fics cross-posted from my tumblr (@RushingHeadlong). They felt too short to post as individual stories but I didn't want to leave them out, so I've compromised by putting them all in one place. 
> 
> Each chapter is a separate story; they are not connected at all. I've left the mainline tags a little vague on purpose, but each chapter has specific notes and warnings on it including whether the story features a male, female, or unspecified Reader. That same information is available in the "Table of Contents" in the first chapter so you can pick out which stories to read and which to skip. 
> 
> This is "Complete" in the sense that I don't have any additional fics to add to it right now, but if I may add more stories later if I write anything short enough that I don't want to post it separately.
> 
> (Title from the Hozier song "Would That I".)

_**Brian x Reader Stories** _

**Chapter Two: Prompt Fill "Angry Sex with Brian"**

Female Reader, Smut, Angry sex (consent is explicitly given)

**Chapter Three: Prompt Fill "Sex Under the Stars"**

Female Reader, Light smut, Fluff

**Chapter Four: Prompt Fill "Soft, cozy moments with Brian"**

Unspecified Reader, Fluff

**Chapter Five: "One Hundred and Thirty Six"**

Summary: You are 136 days sober - and there are two bottles of wine on the counter in front of you

Unspecified Reader, Sober Alcoholic Reader, Hurt/Comfort

**Chapter Six: Prompt Fill "Jewelry Shopping For Brian"**

Unspecified Reader, Fluff

**Chapter Seven: Prompt Fill "Brian Taking Care of Reader After a Rough Day"**

Unspecified Reader, Fluff

**Chapter Eight: Prompt Fill "Being Friends With Brian"**

Male Reader, Non-Romantic, Fluff

_ **Roger x Reader Stories** _

**Chapter Nine: Dating Roger in 1974**

Female Reader, Fluff

**Chapter Ten: Prompt Fill "Roger Confesses His Love"**

Female Reader, Fluff

**_ John x Reader Stories _ **

**Chapter Eleven: Still Come Back To You**

Summary: John returns home late after wrapping up the latest Queen tour, and he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him.

Male Reader, Fluff

**Chapter Twelve:** **Prompt Fill "Picking Out A Christmas Tree"**

Unspecified Reader, Fluff


	2. Prompt Fill "Angry Sex with Brian"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: How about some angry sex with Bri?
> 
> Female Reader, Smut, Angry sex (consent is explicitly given)

“You’re so fucking insufferable sometimes, you know that?” Brian snaps.

You don’t remember how the argument started at this point. Both of you had been in terrible moods all day and sometime between discussing Brian’s schedule with Queen and trying to figure out what you were having for dinner the shouting had just started.

“Oh, _I’m_ insufferable? Pot, meet kettle, Mr. I’m-Always-Right-About-Everything!” you shout. You slam the cupboard door closed and whirl on Brian. “Would it fucking kill you to admit you’re wrong sometimes?”

“I’ll admit that I’m wrong when I’m _actually_ wrong! It’s not my fault-”

“Oh, shut up,” you snarl, and grab the front of Brian’s shirt to pull him down into a heated kiss.

Brian doesn’t waste any time in crowding you against the counter, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. You bite at his bottom lip, and when Brian jerks back in surprise you take advantage of the movement to lean up and bite at the column of his throat instead.

“Fuck, Y/N…” Brian groans, and then he’s lifting you up, placing you on top of the counter and slotting himself between your legs. He tangles one hand in your hair and pulls you away from his neck and you whimper at the sting of pain, but it’s a _good_ sort of pain and you pull against Brian’s grip, trying to reach him again for another kiss.

But Brian holds you in place with one hand in your hair and the other still on your hip, giving you no room to move, and he asks, “Do you want this?”

You appreciate him checking in before going further, but you’re wound too tight with both anger and arousal to reply with anything other than, “If you don’t fuck me right the fuck now, I’m walking out and finding someone who will.”

It’s a completely empty threat, you both know that, but it does its job of riling Brian up again and he kisses you, hot and angry, dropping his hands to undo your pants as you rip open the buttons on his shirt. It takes some coordination from both of you to actually get your jeans off, a difficult task in this position on the best of days but next to impossible when you’d much rather keep biting along the line of Brian’s jaw, but eventually you’re naked from the waist down and Brian is naked from the waist up, and you figure that’s as good as it’s gonna get today.

“C’mon, fuck me, Bri, want you to make me scream,” you pant, fumbling to undo the fly of his jeans.

Brian growls, and pushes your hands away to free his cock, not even bothering to remove his jeans entirely. He pushes two fingers inside you without preamble, smothering your whine in another fierce kiss as his thumb strokes over your clit. Neither of you want to stop long enough to get lube or a condom, but you know you can take him and you tell him so, mumbling, “I’m wet enough already, Bri, just fuck me already,” against his mouth.

And he does, pulling his fingers out only to immediately slam back in with his cock and you _do_ scream, throwing your head back and holding onto Brian’s shoulders as he sets a punishing pace. It’s hard and fast and exactly what you needed, Brian’s cock inside you and his hands gripping your hip and the back of your skull, holding you in place so he can take what he wants. His kisses get sloppier as he chases his orgasm and you drag your nails down his back just to hear the way he groans at the sting of pain.

When you reach down to get yourself off he growls, grabs your hand and pins it against the counter. “You’re not coming until I say so,” he tells you and you groan, tightening around him at his words even as you snap, “Oh, you absolute _bastard_!”

Brian laughs, breathless, and you grab a fistful of his hair, tugging it harshly in retaliation. You’re not expecting Brian’s hips to stutter and for him to suddenly pull out as he comes, all over your thighs and stomach. You pull his hair again and he groans, his cock jerking as he strokes himself through his orgasm.

You give Brian a moment to come back down before carefully removing your hand from his hair, but before you can reach for yourself again he grabs your hand and presses it against the counter like your other, telling you to keep them there before sinking to his knees.

You’re not particularly in a mood to listen to him, especially as he teases you by biting at your inner thighs and sucking bruises into the delicate skin there, and you grab his head and drag him forward towards your core. Brian chuckles again and says, “See, you never listen to me,” which sets your blood boiling again- but any retort you had dies as Brian sinks two fingers back into you, his tongue flicking and sucking at your clit until your own orgasm hits. It’s your turn to hold him in place, grinding against his face and his mouth and his fingers, until it gets to be too much and you push him away, collapsing back on your elbows as you struggle to catch your breath.

Brian sits back on his ankles and looks up at you with a slightly crooked smile. “Well, that’s one way to solve an argument.”

You laugh, feeling genuinely lighter and more relaxed, and make a grabby motion towards Brian. He understands what you want immediately and stands back up on slightly-wobbly legs, wrapping his arms around you- gently, this time- and kissing you much more softly than he had before. You know both of you will have to apologize for the things you said in anger later, but for now you’re content to savor this moment of peace.

At least, until Brian reminds you, “You know, we still have to figure out what to eat for dinner.”

You groan, dropping your head down to Brian’s shoulder as he laughs, and gently strokes his hands along your back. “Let’s just order a pizza and call it a night.”


	3. Prompt Fill "Sex Under the Stars"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: How about soft smut with Brian and female reader under the stars?
> 
> Female Reader, Light smut, Fluff

The night started with wine and stargazing out in the garden. You always found it amusing that you recognized constellations better than Brian did. He could point out the planets, trace the faint glimmers of the Milky Way and the Andromeda Galaxy, and spot even the faintest shimmer of zodiacal light, but it’s you who connects the stars to point out Cancer and the Plough.

Then one glass of wine turns into two and the stars begin to look the same, and Brian loses interest in the planets in favor of kissing you, and two glasses of wine becomes three to finish off the bottle, and your hands tangle in Brian’s hair as his move down the length of your body.

Brian pulls your panties off and pushes your skirt around your waist, and murmurs, “We don’t have lube out here, better make sure you’re wet enough first…” before leaning down and bringing his mouth to your core.

You cry out as he licks along your entrance and gently sucks at your clit, and he’s too good at making you come undone because you can feel yourself rushing towards that edge almost embarrassingly quickly. You push his head away before he can make you come, panting, “Stop, stop, I don’t wanna come yet, want you inside me first.”

Brian groans and surges up to kiss you, and you fumble to undo his jeans and get them pushed down far enough to free his cock. And then Brian is pushing into you slowly and you can only gasp, and cling to his shoulders as he bottoms out inside you.

He sets an easy pace, slowly rocking into you so you can feel every inch of his cock as it moves, and he kisses along the column of your throat as you whine and writhe beneath him. You know you aren’t going to last long, and you barely have to touch your clit before your orgasm washes over you, making you cry out as the pleasure overwhelms you.

Brian moans at the feeling of you tightening around him as you come, and his thrusts get a little harder, a little sloppier, before he follows you over the edge as well, his hips stuttering into you as he works himself through his own orgasm.

When Brian pulls out he collapses next to you on the blanket. You roll over and cuddle against him and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “I love you,” he murmurs and you can feel him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you more,” you whisper back. You aren’t sure if Brian hears you, but that’s alright because you still have him, and this moment is more than enough for you.


	4. Prompt Fill "Soft, cozy moments with Brian"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally written as a gift for a friend.
> 
> Unspecified Reader, Fluff

It’s still early when you wake up, the barest hint of dawn only just starting to break over the horizon. You’d only gone to bed a few hours earlier and you’re not sure why you’re awake now, but you don’t like it. You grumble a little and roll over, reaching one fumbling hand out towards Brian, searching for his warmth and the sleepy kisses he presses into your skin when he’s still half-asleep - but his side of the blankets are cold and empty.

You realize this, and then a moment later your brain recognizes the sound of quiet guitar music drifting through the house. And so, with a tired sigh, you wrap yourself in a blanket, tuck your feet into a pair of Brian’s worn slippers, and shuffle out of the bedroom.

Brian is sitting at the dining room table, a cup of tea next to his notebook, the pages covered in lyric fragments and cryptic notes that only he can decipher. He must hear you coming because he doesn’t startle when you drape yourself against his back. “Didn’t I drag you to bed with me?” you ask.

Brian laughs, just a quiet huff of amusement. “Couldn’t sleep. The song wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Well that’s rude of it,” you mumble. You nuzzle against the crook of Brian’s neck, and he turns his head just enough to press a kiss against your temple. “Come back to bed. I missed you.”

“Alright. I can do that.”

Brian sets down the guitar, leaving the cup his papers where they are to be dealt with in the morning, and wraps an arm around your waist as he follows you back to the bedroom. You immediately lie down on the bed and grab for Brian, who laughs again as he patiently takes off your borrowed slippers and pulls the blanket properly over the bed before joining you underneath it.

He opens his arms and you immediately snuggle up against him, sighing contentedly as he kisses the top of your head. “I love you,” he whispers as you start to drift off again. You try to say it back but all that comes out is a sleepy mumble - but that’s alright, because Brian kisses you again and you know that he understood you anyway.


	5. One Hundred and Thirty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are 136 days sober - and there are two bottles of wine on the counter in front of you.
> 
> Unspecified Reader, Sober Alcoholic Reader, Hurt/Comfort
> 
> **Warnings: Alcoholic!Reader, mentions of alcohol cravings and a possible relapse**

There are six glasses of wine in each bottle. Two bottles on the counter - twelve glasses of wine total.

You are one hundred and thirty six days sober. Just over two and a half months of countless drinks that you haven’t had, and parties you haven’t gone to, and a physical and emotional rollercoaster that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.

136 days behind you, and two bottles of wine in front of you, and you’re gripping the counter so tight that your knuckles are bone-white and still your entire body is shaking. You don’t want to drink, except in the way that every fiber of your being wants alcohol, _needs_ alcohol, needs to be drunk because you think if you have to spend another second sober you might just die.

You don’t hear the sound of the front door opening. You don’t hear Brian walk into the house. You don’t hear him call out to you. You don’t hear anything over the fire burning through your brain, leaving no room for anything other than an endless repetition of _drink, drink, drink, drink-_

You feel Brian’s gentle touch on your shoulder, and feel the way it tightens slightly when he finally spots the bottles of wine in front of you. “Those weren’t here this morning,” he says softly, each word chosen with care.

“Obviously fucking not,” you say, but there’s no heat behind it. Which surprises you, because you still feel like you’re going to burn up with how _badly_ you want to drink. “I bought them. On my way home from the store.”

You don’t tell Brian that you broke after a day full of tiny, but never-ending, shitty things that piled up until they got too much to bear sober. You don’t tell Brian that you drove ten minutes out of your way to go to a store that you didn’t frequent back when you drank on the daily, just so you wouldn’t be recognized in your moment of shame. You don’t tell Brian that you’ve been standing here, staring down these two bottles, for longer than you care to admit, torn between your addiction and 136 days that tell you that you don’t need to do this.

You don’t tell Brian any of that, because you don’t _have_ to tell him any of that. He knows everything that you don’t have the words to say because he’s been there, through the early days of withdrawal and the pink cloud that followed and the turbulence of settling into what may be your new normal. He’s been a rock more than a lifeline, a support but not your savior, and you feel that same steady presence as he presses close and wraps his arms around your waist.

“If you drink, how will you feel tomorrow?” he asks.

It’s not an emotional plea for you to not drink. It’s not a guilt-trip, and he doesn’t try to strike a bargain to keep you sober. You don’t need those things now. They’re temporary bandaids at best, and that’s something that you both know.

“If I drink tonight, I’ll wake up hungover and feeling like shit and pissed at myself for giving in,” you tell him. “But, if I drink tonight, then I get to be _drunk_.”

Brian knows what being drunk means for you. It means starting over at square one and going through the hell of those early days of sobriety all over again… and it means getting nothing else done tonight but pounding glass after glass of wine, trying to enjoy Brian’s company and interact with him and just getting sloppier as the evening wears on.

But Brian just hums, thoughtful, and says, “True… but that’s just for one night.”

“It might not be.” That’s the harsh truth that you’ve been fighting with ever since you bought the wine. You want to believe that you’re different now, that you’re _fixed_ , but history has shown you that you cannot moderate and you know, in the pit of your heart, that if you drink tonight you won’t be able to stop so easily.

“That’s true too.” Brian kisses the side of your neck. “So, what do you want to do?”

You take a deep breath, and let go of your death grip on the counter to turn around and face Brian. You smile at him, small and crooked but still genuine, and you can see the relief on Brian’s face when he sees it. “I want hugs,” you tell him. “And maybe a cup of tea.”

Brian laughs and kisses your forehead- and when you tilt your face up towards him, he kisses you properly as well. “Well, I can certainly deliver on both of those,” he says. “Want to go to the living room? I’ll put the kettle on and join you in a second.”

You know that the moment you leave the kitchen Brian is going to take the bottles of wine and hide them somewhere you won’t be able to find them… but rather than being angry about that, you just feel relieved. “Alright. As long as you’ll only be a second!”

“Just a second, I swear,” Brian tells you, smiling widely at you, and even though you know he won’t join you in a _literal_ second there isn’t a single part of you that doubts the promise behind his words.


	6. Prompt Fill "Jewelry Shopping For Brian"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: Jewelry shopping with Bri (not for reader, for BRIAN!!). Maybe mid/late 70s. He's just starting to see more money flow into his account, so reader gently persuades him into treating himself as a little reward for all the hard work he's done. He deserves to own a pretty necklace that won't turn the skin on his nape green, or that belongs to freddie or roger. Reader helps him find just the right one
> 
> Unspecified Reader, Fluff

Brian breaks the chain on his favorite necklace early one Saturday morning. 

Frankly, you’re surprised that it lasted this long. It was already old when Freddie bought it, practically ancient by the time it was passed to Brian, and while lovely it was never a work of fine craftsmanship. 

That doesn’t stop Brian from looking absolutely heartbroken as he holds the oval pendant in one hand and the broken chain in the other, and you choose your words with care as you say, “You know, I’m sure you could buy a new chain to put that on… Maybe pick up another necklace while you’re out as well…”

Because Brian has a _thing_ about spending money on himself. He doesn’t care about fashion, and while he’s bought several rings for himself over the years the only necklaces he owns are the ones passed onto him by Freddie or Roger back in the early days of Queen. They didn’t have the money for expensive jewelry, and although Brian cherishes every piece his friends gave him you’ve seen how they stain his skin green and you’ve watched him fight with more than one wonky clasp. 

Brian deserves better, is all, and now that Queen have sorted out their finances and finally hit stardom he can afford to treat himself a little. 

Still, you’re surprised when Brian agrees to go look for a new necklace chain and even though you had other plans for the day the two of you find yourselves in a smaller, slightly out-of-the-way, jewelry store where the sales associate is more than happy to show you their selection.

“What do you think, Brian?” you ask as the two of you look at the display of necklace chains. “The black one might be nice with that pendant.”

“Mm, you’re probably right,” he says, but he’s not looking at the one you’re pointing at. His eyes are fixed on a small display of silver necklaces, with dainty pendants hanging from delicate-looking chains.

You nudge Brian and nod towards the necklaces. “Those are lovely too, you know.”

“I suppose,” Brian says, as if you can’t see the longing on his face as he looks at them. 

It’s frankly a little ridiculous that Brian actually has money to spare these days and he still hesitates to buy nice things for himself. You get it, considering his upbringing and how difficult the early years of Queen were, but it still makes you sad when Brian talks to the sales associate and only asks to see one of the black chains. 

“Can you also take out that necklace for us to look at too?” you ask, pointing to the one that you think Brian had been eyeing the most. 

“Of course!” the associate says, as Brian shoots you an almost panicked look. “That one’s part of a set- there’s a second chain that’s meant to be worn with it as well. Do you want to see both?”

“Absolutely, thank you.”

“What are you doing?” Brian hisses in your ear as the associate unlocks the display cases. 

“You like that necklace too, don’t you?” you ask.

Brian huffs. “Yes, maybe, but we weren’t here to get-”

“And you have the money to buy it, don’t you?” Brian doesn’t answer that question and you sigh, and reach out to gently cup his face. “Babe, all your necklaces are old hand-me-downs from Freddie or Rog. They discolor your skin or they’re half-broken already… and you deserve nicer jewelry than that. So why not treat yourself to something you’ll actually love?”

“Alright,” Brian says after a moment. “I suppose it would be nice to have something new to wear.”

You grin, delighted that you’ve managed to convince him, and kiss his cheek. “That’s the spirit!”

When the sales associate returns, Brian takes the necklace set to look at closer. It’s designed so the pendant will sit just above the second chain, and you already know that the delicate pieces will look beautiful on Brian. “We’ll take all of them,” he says.

“Wonderful!” the associate says. “Will you need any of these gift-wrapped today?”

Brian declines and quickly pays for his purchase. When the two of you step outside he tugs slightly you away from the shopfront, and pulls the necklace set out of the bag. “Can you help me put this on?” he asks. 

“Of course.”

Brian turns around and holds his hair out of the way so you can secure the clasps on both necklaces. When he faces you again, you adjust the pendant so it’s sitting properly against his neck and he asks, a bit hesitant, “How does it look?”

You lean up and kiss him gently. “Like you were meant to wear it,” you reassure him, and Brian’s small, pleased smile feels like a victory.


	7. Prompt Fill "Brian Taking Care of Reader After a Rough Day"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: Brian taking care of reader after a really rough day. I'm talking tea, I'm talking bath, I'm talking hair washing, I'm talking neck rubs, I'm talking CUDDLES
> 
> Unspecified Reader, Fluff

Your day had been, to put it bluntly, absolute shit. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong, and by the time you get home you’re ready to crawl into bed and sleep until the world decides to give you a break.

But Brian takes one look at you, and immediately derails those plans. “Let me take care of you,” he had murmured, and how were you supposed to say no to that?

So you let him lead you into the bathroom, where he draws you a hot bath and undresses you gently. “Join me?” you ask, hating that you sound so needy, but Brian just smiles and kisses your forehead and tells you, “Of course, my love.”

You sit between his legs, leaning back against his chest, and close your eyes as Brian washes your hair. His long fingers feel like heaven as they massage your scalp, and then move down to work the knots of tension out of your neck and shoulders. 

Brian digs into a particularly stubborn knot along your shoulder blade and you groan. He pauses for a moment to ask, “Does it hurt?”

“Feels good,” you tell him. “Keep going.”

He chuckles, and presses a kiss against the spot. “Alright,” he says softly. “I’ve got you, just relax for me.”

And, somehow, you do. With every pass of Brian’s hands over your skin you feel a little more of your stress fade away, and by the time Brian finally gently coaxes you out of the bath you feel more at ease than you’ve been all day. 

Brian helps dry you off with one of the fluffiest towels you own, and lets you steal a pair of his own pajama pants and his hoodie to wear. “Did you eat anything today?” he asks. You make a face at the mere suggestion of food and Brian chuckles. “I’m guessing that’s a no.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat, Y/N.” Brian kisses you softly and says, “Go sit in the living room, I’ll make you something.”

You make another face at Brian, but you know he’s not going to budge on this. While Brian is in the kitchen you drag your favorite blanket off the bed, and by the time he carries a tray of food into the living room you’ve wrapped yourself in it and settled against a pile of pillows on the couch. 

Brian knows that you lose your appetite when you get upset, and he’s made you things that are easy to eat: a cup of your favorite tea, a bowl of soup, and a few pieces of toast. He hands you the bowl of soup, sets the tea on the coffee table, and holds the plate of toast for you himself. He fills the silence as you slowly eat, talking about the album that the band’s recording and some latest astronomy news, until somehow you’ve finished off your soup and toast without even realizing it. 

And as soon as Brian takes the bowl from you and sets it aside you immediately curl up against his side, burrowing against him as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and holds you close. 

“Feeling any better?” he asks. 

For the first time since you got home, you manage a small, but genuine, smile. “I think I’m getting there.” The _thanks to you_ goes unsaid, but Brian’s answering smile and gentle kiss against your temple tells you that he hears it anyway.


	8. Prompt Fill "Being Friends With Brian"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: do you think you could do something where the (preferably male but can just be unspecified because this is gen) reader and current brian are friends? just something nice and soft I don't have anything super specific
> 
> Male Reader, Non-Romantic, Fluff

You’ve known Brian for years now, long enough that the exact details of your first meeting have become a subject of friendly debate between the two of you. You’ve known him before Queen’s popularity skyrocketed, and he’s seen you at more low points than you care to recall. You’re constants in each other’s lives, always there for each other, no questions asked.

Your friendship is easy. Comfortable. Brian is at home on your worn-out couch, lounging with his feet on your coffee table, his shoulder knocking against yours every time he moves. There’s no awkward spaces between the two of you, no distances kept just because you’re both men. 

In fact you’re slouched against him right now, the full weight of your body pressed against his, laughing so hard that you’re nearly in tears as he tells you about some of the antics from the latest Queen tour. Neither of you are _drunk_ but you’ve both had a few drinks, and it makes Brian’s already loose storytelling even more disjointed. 

“And then Deacy- Well, it was both Deacy and Roger, but Roger insisted he wasn’t involved- They went out for a smoke and- Wait, let me show you the photos of it, hold on-”

Brian moves to stand up and you, still laughing, grab the hem of his shirt and immediately pull him back down onto the couch. He topples back over, landing nearly on top of you, and he laughs as he shifts over so he’s pressed against your side, rather than sitting directly in your lap. 

“Photos _later_ ,” you tell him, trying and largely failing to sound stern. “Stories _now_.”

Truthfully, it’s not a particularly great story, one of those “you had to be there to appreciate it” moments that doesn’t translate well when shared after the fact. But neither you nor Brian care about that. The details of the story are less important the conversation it sparks, one that meanders across topics and time, the minutia of life with Queen getting left behind for your grumblings about your own job which eventually turn into reminiscing about mutual friends that neither of you have kept up with over the years. 

“Which Billy was that, the one with the hair or the one-?”

“That we used to meet at that pub, d’you remember-?”

“The one over on-?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

Sentences get started and never finished, half-formed thoughts never needing completion because after all these years you and Brian just sync up. You can fumble over a word and Brian doesn’t need to correct you to understand what you were trying to say, and when Brian misremembers some small detail you don’t need to stop to figure out what he was trying to get at. It drives other people crazy, sometimes, the way you two can have an entire conversation full of fragments and gestures, but it’s second-nature for the both of you now and you hardly even realize when it’s happening anymore. 

“You staying the night?” you ask when it gets late and your conversation is broken by periods of long, comfortable silence and occasional yawns. 

“If that’s alright with you,” Brian says. He stretches out, his joints cracking audibly, and when he settles back down with a sigh he rests his head on your shoulder. 

“‘course it is, you know that,” you tell him. Just like you knew that he would probably stay, but you both go through this little ritual every time anyway. “Wanna turn in for the night then?”

“Mm, yeah, we probably should.”

Brian follows you into the bedroom, because there’s no question of _where_ he’s sleeping. You don’t have a guest room, and you refuse to let Brian spend the night tossing and turning on your sofa. You give him a pair of the pajama pants that you keep on hand specifically for him, because he’s too tall to fit into any of yours, and grab the spare blanket because experience has taught you that you will hog all the covers if you two try to share. 

You also know that, no matter what you do to avoid it, you’ll wake up with Brian’s hair in your face and his ice-cold feet leaching warmth from your legs, but that’s alright. You’ll mock-complain, as you always do, and Brian will make eggs for the two of you for breakfast before leaving, as he always does. The routine is automatic but you still cherish it, like you still cherish every moment of friendship you get to share with Brian.

There’s no one quite like him, after all, and there’s no other friendship in your life quite like this. Because no matter how the years may change you and Brian, there is nothing that can touch the connection between the both of you.


	9. Dating Roger in 1974

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for a gift exchange on tumblr.
> 
> Female Reader, Fluff

You wake up to the sound of Roger knocking something over, his soft cursing just barely loud enough to rouse you despite his obvious efforts to stay quiet. It feels early and you burrow back under the blankets, half-wondering why Roger is awake and moving around at all but mostly hoping that he joins you back in bed soon.

It takes you several long moments to realize that you’re not in your own bed, and those aren’t the familiar sounds of London drifting up from the street below.

You suddenly remember where you are and you immediately sit upright in the bed, your excitement chasing away the last of your sleepiness. Because you’re in _New York City_ , the one place in the world you’ve always dreamed of visiting, and now you’re finally here.

And Roger is across the room, pulling bagels and spreads out of a small paper bag. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

You shake your head, even though he sort of did, and start to pull back the covers.

“No, no, don’t get up!” Roger says, laughing and motioning for you to stay put. “I wanted to treat you to breakfast in bed!”

“What about our plans to explore the city?” You were supposed to go the Museum of Modern Art today, and you wanted to get there right when it opened to avoid the crowds as much as possible.

“We have plenty of time to eat,” Roger tells you. “Just let me spoil you a little, alright?”

“Alright,” you agree, and Roger beams at you before returning to preparing your breakfast.

“I got us proper New York bagels and some fruit from the shop down on the corner- oh, and coffee too! I figured you didn’t want anything too heavy, not if we’re gonna be walking around all day…”

“It sounds wonderful, love,” you assure him. Money is still tight and you know that Roger gets a bit self-conscious that he can’t always spoil you like he wants to, but you don’t care about that. You’re just happy to be here and be able to spend time with Roger while he’s on tour.

Roger tosses you a smile over his shoulder and puts the finishing touches on his handiwork. “Here, this one’s for you,” he says, passing you over one of the coffees and a paper plate which, in addition to the promised breakfast, has a single daffodil resting along the edge.

“Rog, did you raid someone’s flower bed?” you ask with a laugh.

“So what if I did? I’d have gotten you a whole bouquet, if we had somewhere to put it in the room,” Roger says.

You lean up and kiss him, and you can’t stop smiling against his lips because it’s little moments like this that remind you of how much you love Roger.

You finally pull back, just enough to ask, “You gonna join me for breakfast, or keep standing over there?”

“I’m joining you, don’t worry,” Roger says, leaning in to give you one more quick kiss. “But I have one more surprise first.”

“Oh?”

Roger leans back over to the table and snags a newspaper, which he unfurls with no small amount of fanfare so you can see _The New York Times_ written across the top. “I know how much you love crosswords, so I figured what better way to start your New York holiday than with working on the Times puzzle?”

“God, I love you,” you say, grinning widely at him and making grabbing hands for the paper. Roger laughs and passes it over to you, along with a pen, and steals another kiss as he settles back into the bed next to you.

This is a familiar tradition for you and Roger, lazy mornings spent cuddled together in bed. If you were home there would be a record playing softly in the background, and Roger might have his guitar out as he worked on some new song next to you, but you don’t mind the absence of those things. You still have Roger, warm and comfortable at your side, and you lean against him as you scan the first few crossword clues and listen to the sounds of New York coming to life around you.


	10. Prompt Fill "Roger Confesses His Love"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: My idea is that they’re both famous musicians and have known each other since they were young and talk all the time. They’re finally both in London and he invites her over to his house to eat dinner together so he can confess he’s loved her his entire life. She feels the same way but is terrified of another relationship cuz she was cheated on.
> 
> Female Reader, Fluff

The thing about Roger is that he’s always just sort of been _there_. You’ve known him for ages, ever since you were kids. The two of you had dreams of being in a famous band together, but things have a funny way of working out sometimes and although you’re both well-known musicians your careers have never connected like that.

In fact, you barely get a chance to see each other these days. When Roger is town you’re busy in the studio, and when you have some downtown he’s halfway across the world. You keep in touch as best you can, but the last time the two of you hung out was when you were sobbing on Roger’s couch after you found out that your asshole of an ex-boyfriend was cheating on you and that was nearly a year ago now.

But the stars have finally aligned and you’re both in London at the same time, Roger coming off a tour and your next one still a few weeks away. You agree to meet at his place, and when he opens the door you throw yourself at him, pulling him into a tight hug.

He laughs, and hugs you back just as a tightly, not letting go of you as you both stumble back into his house and he kicks the door shut. “Hey Y/N. Did you miss me, then?”

“Hardly at all,” you joke, as you finally let go of him. “Have I seen you since you cut your hair? It looks good.”

“God, I don’t even know anymore,” Roger says as he runs a hand through his shorter locks. “But thanks. And yours looks good grown out like that.”

“Thanks,” you parrot back to him, grinning widely at him. You _have_ missed him, and sporadic phone calls will never be the same as actually being able to spend time with your best friend.

The two of you catch up over dinner, talking about your current musical projects and griping about your labels and the inner workings of the industry over drinks and takeaway. It’s comfortable and familiar, but as the evening wears on you notice that there’s a nervous sort of energy to Roger, like there’s something he wants to say but he’s holding himself back.

You know better than to push for answers, because Roger will only shut down and refuse to say anything. Instead you let the conversation drift on, eventually turning to both of your personal lives.

“Nah, I’m still single at the moment,” you tell him when he asks if there’s anyone in your life. “Kinda hard getting over being cheated on, y’know? And then it seems like any guy who’s interested in me only wants to say they banged a rockstar, so I figure I’m better off on my own.”

“That’s awful,” Roger says, sounding sincere. “You deserve better than that.”

You shrug. “I know, but what can you do?” You finish off your drink before asking, “So, what about you, Taylor? Any ladies catch your eye lately?”

“I’m not dating anyone, no,” Roger says, and there’s something evasive about that phrasing that makes your ears perk up.

“Which means there _is_ someone you’re interested in,” you say, and Roger groans, burying his face in his hands. “Who’s the lucky lady then?”

Roger takes a deep breath, and mumbles something that ends up completely muffled by his hands.

“What was that?” you ask. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

Roger looks up at you, and you feel your stomach lurch at the expression on his face, because you know Roger well enough after all these years to know what he’s going to say before he tells you, “It’s you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

You stare at him, mouth open in shock, as you scramble to process what he’s saying. “For how long?”

“A good while now,” he admits. “But you were in a relationship, and then after what that shitbag did I didn’t want to pressure you… but it doesn’t feel right, keeping it a secret anymore. I know you probably don’t feel the same-”

You cut him off with a kiss. It’s chaste, just the quickest brush of your lips against his, but it shuts him up immediately and when you pull back he stares at you with a look of both surprise, and yearning, on his face.

“I always had a crush on you growing up, but I never thought you felt the same,” you admit. “And then you were always dating someone, or I was, and after my last break-up…” You bite your lip, and look away from Roger. “I like you, Rog. I really, really do. But I’m scared of getting into another relationship and having it end badly again.”

“Y/N…” You feel Roger gently cup your face, and turn you so you’re looking at him again. He’s smiling at you, so softly that it makes your heart ache, and he says, “I will _never_ hurt you. I’d rather die than ever make you feel the way he did. If you aren’t ready for a relationship, I understand and I won’t pressure you… but if you can give me a chance, I promise I’ll treat you like royalty.”

You smile at Roger, and despite your fears you think you’re ready to take this leap of faith. “I don’t need that. I just need the same love and friendship you’ve shown me all these years.”

“Does that mean…?”

“Yes,” you say, before he can finish his question. “Let’s give this a go.”

Roger leans in to kiss you, slowly enough that you could stop him if you wanted- but you don’t want to. You meet him halfway and the kiss is so tender, so gentle, that you melt into it, and you wonder how you ever thought to be scared of something this perfect.


	11. Still Come Back To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: John returns home late after wrapping up the latest Queen tour, and he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him.
> 
> Male Reader, Fluff

“Hey there, sleepy head.”

The voice sounds like it’s part of a dream. So does the gentle touch on your head, the nimble fingers carding through your hair. It’s a comforting, familiar gesture that your almost-asleep mind can’t quite place, but you still instinctively lean into the touch, sighing contentedly as the maybe-a-dream hand scratches at your scalp. 

There’s a low chuckle, and the same voice says, “You wanna actually try to open your eyes?”

No, you do not, and you think you manage to mumble something to that effect. You’re comfortable and warm and still half asleep, though slowly waking up more and more with each passing second. You recognize now that you’re on your couch, not in bed, and the hand still stroking along your hair feels more real than a dream now. 

“Please, Y/N,” the voice murmurs, and there’s a soft kiss pressed to the top of your head. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You remember now why you’re passed out on the couch and you finally coax your eyes open. You’re greeted by the wonderful sight of your boyfriend kneeling down in front of you, a fond smile on his face. He’s still wearing his jacket and you know he must have just gotten home.

“Hey. You’re back early,” you say, still slurring words slightly as you try to wake up fully. 

John laughs. “I’m late, actually. It’s nearly 3am.” 

“Oh.” You must have fallen asleep while waiting for John to get home then, and you frown in slight disappointment. “I was gonna wait up for you…”

“I’m glad you got some sleep, actually,” John tells you. “I’d hate for you to have made yourself tired and grumpy over me.” The hand that had been petting your head moves to cup the side of your face, and you turn just enough to press a kiss into his palm. 

“That’s not the point,” you say, nuzzling against his hand for a moment, before mustering up the energy to push yourself upright. You reach out for John and he meets you halfway, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight as you melt into the hug. 

You’ve missed this over the last few months, more than you can ever describe. You want to kiss him senseless, want to curl up in bed with him and never leave, want to make him laugh just to watch the way his face lights up and his eyes crinkle with joy… but mostly, you want to stay here, in his arms, for as long as you possibly can. You know that he has at least a few weeks off that he plans on spending entirely with you, but you’re just tired enough to be irrationally afraid that if you let go of John now he’ll disappear and you’ll wake up to realize this was only a dream.

“You’re not allowed to tour anymore,” you mumble, the words slightly muffled from where you have your face buried in the crook of John’s neck. 

John chuckles, and you can feel the vibrations of it throughout your body where you’re pressed close against him. “Next time you just have to come with us. I got too used to always having you around for the UK tours. I was spoiled knowing my boyfriend was waiting backstage for me after every show…” John sighs, and tightens his arms around you slightly, and adds, a little softer, “I kept looking for you, on this tour, every time I’d leave the stage. I knew you weren’t there, but I kept hoping you’d be anyway.”

You make a small, unhappy noise at the thought of John always looking for you, nearly every night for the last two months, and you finally pull back enough to kiss him properly. He sighs into your mouth, his hands dropping to hold onto your waist as he kisses you back, and even though it’s gentle, nearly chaste, it’s exactly what both of you needed- an affirmation that John is home, and you’re together again, and he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“From now on, I’ll go anywhere you go,” you tell him between kisses. “I can’t stand you being gone, it’s too lonely here without you.”

John brushes his nose against yours, and kisses you one last time. “Well, I’ll never say no to that,” he says. “But we can talk more about it later. You look like you’re dead on your feet right now.”

“I’m not on my feet,” you point out, trying- and failing- to stifle a yawn. 

John laughs and stands up, pulling you upright along with him. “You are now.” You roll your eyes, but can’t stop yourself from smiling at him. God, you’ve missed him so much. “Come on,” he says, gently tugging you forward. “Let’s go to bed.”

You let John lead you into the bedroom, not wanting to let go of his hand and lose that physical connection to him, however small it may be. And when you reach the bedroom the two of you undress each other, trading soft kisses as you shed shoes, shirts, and trousers. There’s nothing sexual about it- you’re so tired that you’re not sure you could get it up even if you tried- but there is a comfort to having John’s hands on your body again, to be able to trace the muscles in his arms as you pull his t-shirt over his head, both of you simply feeling each other and reacquainting yourselves with the man you love. 

You climb into bed, just like you have for the last two months, but this time when you roll over and reach out towards John’s side of the bed he’s there waiting for you. You tangle your legs with his and he wraps an arm around your waist, and you relax into his embrace, relishing the feeling of warm skin against yours instead of cold sheets.

John tucks his face into the crook of your neck and sighs contentedly. “Missed this,” he murmurs softly, breath hot against your skin. “Missed you.”

You press one last, gentle kiss to the top of John’s head and let your eyes close again. “Missed you too,” you whisper back, and it isn’t long before both of you drift off to a comfortable sleep. 


	12. Prompt Fill "Picking Out A Christmas Tree"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompt: Picking out a Christmas tree with John!
> 
> Unspecified Reader, Fluff
> 
> [Note: This has been very slightly edited from the original tumblr version.]

“What about this one?” you ask, pulling John over to a fairly sizeable evergreen. It’s tall and broad and you know there’s no chance of it fitting into your living room, but you still wrap your arms around it and sink into its branches. “It’s _perfect_.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect for someone, but maybe not for us,” John says. You laugh and look back at John, who’s smiling fondly at you despite the dry note in his voice. “Something a bit smaller, I think?”

You groan theatrically, but you let go of the tree and take John’s hand again. “You’re no fun,” you tease. “Where’s your holiday spirit, John? Your childlike joy about the season?”

“It’s being smothered by the knowledge of our living room dimensions,” John says. “It’s a heavy burden, I’ll admit, but one of us has to bear it.”

“Well, better you than me,” you say with another laugh. You’ve been in high spirits all day, giggly and happy as you and John trudge through the snow looking for the perfect tree - though, in truth, both of you are having more fun critiquing every tree that you see instead of really looking for one that will work for you. 

“What do you think about this one?” John asks, stopping by a tree that barely comes up to his shoulder. He looks ridiculous standing next to him and there’s a glint of humor in his eyes that tells you that he knows exactly what reaction this suggestion will have.

You love him so much for that that you have to lean up to kiss him, smiling against his mouth because you’re so happy that you just can’t contain it. “It’s too small, we can’t have a tree that’s shorter than us,” you tell him when you pull back. 

“Well, it’s shorter than _me_ at least…” John laughs as you shove at his shoulder. “That one, then?” He points to an even _smaller_ tree, scraggly and clearly not ready for this Christmas season.

“John, _no_!”

“Why? Looks perfect to me,” he says, but he can’t get through the lie without giggling a little himself. 

“I think we’d put the star on top and just about break the poor tree in half,” you tell him.

“Well then we’d just have two trees,” John jokes. “Seems like a great plan to me.”

“ _One_ , tree,” you insist. “One big, _beautiful_ tree. Not two scrawny ones.”

“One tree of reasonable size,” John corrects. “It still needs to fit into the house.”

“What if we just buy a bigger house?” you ask. “Then we could get a- a 15-foot tall tree!”

“15 feet?” John laughs. “And how would we decorate it?”

“With 15-foot tall ladders, of course!”

John throws his head back and laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling from his wide smile. It’s snowing, just a little, and there’s flakes starting to stick to the top of his fluffy hair. He’s so beautiful and you love him so much that you feel almost overwhelmed with how happy you are in this moment. 

“I don’t think we can buy and move into a new house before Christmas, so I think we need to look for something shorter this year,” John says eventually, still chuckling a little despite himself. 

“Fine,” you relent with an exaggerated sigh, but you still can’t keep a smile off your face.

You cuddle against John’s side and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close as you keep walking through the trees. Eventually you’ll have to pick one, but neither of you have anything else to do and you are in no hurry for this perfect little outing to come to an end.


End file.
